Chapter 5 The Picnic

As I started the drive to Carol’s house on Elm Street I wondered about mother. First this morning she did not come out of her room. It was nearly nine when I knocked and said, “Mother, I apologize.”

After a short silence she opened the door a crack, but not far enough for me to see her and asked, “What are you apologizing for.”

“I thought I did something wrong,” I said.

“I am the only one who did anything wrong.” A silence followed, then she asked, “Can we just forget it and pretend nothing happened last night, please?”

“I guess so,” I said.

“We don’t have much time. I have a picnic lunch to pack and you must meet Carol’s mother. I’ll be ready to meet Carol after ten. Oh! Here are the rest of the rubbers,” she said handing the two packets to me and closing her door.

Can I forget what mother and I did? I don’t think so. Fucking is hard to forget. In fact, I don’t want to forget. I only hope if I ever get to do that with Carol or any other girl it will be as good. That was really, really, good last night. And there is Carol’s house.

I knocked on the door, it was answered by an older version of Carol. She held her hand out to me and said, “You must be John. I am Brenda Martin, Carol’s mother. Please come in. It will be a couple minutes until Carol is ready.” I shook her hand and stepped in. As I turned to look at her, I realized she had pink hair and was dressed in pink shoes, pink skin-tight jeans, and a pink button up blouse. The blouse had enough buttons unbuttoned to reveal a lot of cleavage. Hanging part way down into that cleavage was a polished pink stone suspended by a gold chain around her neck. The gold chain contrasted with her pink skin.

Before I could think of anything to say, I heard Carol’s voice from behind me. “John, I should have warned you that my mother has a thing for pink.” I turned and there was Carol in blue jeans and a pale blue button up blouse. I noted it was buttoned up with only the top button unbuttoned.

I turned back to Brenda and said, “Mrs. Martin, I noticed that pink stone, is that…”

Interrupting me she said coldly, “Pink quartz.” Turning to Carol she asked, “Did you think about sunburn when you put on that short sleeve shirt?”

“We are just going on a picnic, not bathing on the beach,” Carol said obviously irritated with her mother.

“Okay deer, but don’t stay out in the sun too long,” Brenda cautioned.

Carol turned to me saying, “I’m ready.”

“John be sure to get her home before dark. Her father and I worry about all the drunks out there after dark on a Saturday night,” Brenda said.

“Mom, just stop,” Carol said as she pushed me out the door pulling it shut behind her.

I had expected to have to answer all kinds of questions and make numerous promises, but it had appeared that Carol and her mother had argued. Once I had started driving, I could not resist asking, “Did you and your mother have an argument?”

“It was that obvious,” Carol said, “She wanted me to wear one of the pink outfits she just bought me.”

Thinking back, I do remember her wearing pink. I commented, “You do look good in pink.”

“Well thank you, but I am not going to wear pink all the time like her. It is almost like if I do not wear pink that I am a rebel,” she said as she scooted up close to me. Then asked, “How about your mom? Are you on good terms with her?”

How do I answer that, I wondered? “Yes, but sometimes she changes her mind, so I don’t know what to expect. Just like now, I don’t have any idea what she will be like. I expect she will be nice to you, but there is a chance she won’t,” I said.

“I hope she likes me but if she doesn’t will it make a difference to you?” she asked.

I almost said that I must live with my mother but instead I said, “Why should it?”

“I know, why should we care what our mothers think. It’s not like we are married. We are just friends,” she said.

“Amazing,” I said, “You said what I thought.”

“Well then we are agreed,” she said as she snuggled up even closer to me.

Just then I turned into our driveway and said, “We are here.”

“Oh, for some reason I imagined you lived in a big mansion on a hill,” she said.

“You’re joking,” I chuckled. It was amazing to me how she had lightened the tension by that remark.

As we entered through the kitchen door with me leading Carol by the hand, I saw mother just placing the picnic basket on a chair at the table. She was dressed in her newest and best dress that I thought flattered her by its color and cut. Her hair and makeup were perfectly done. Everything was perfect except she had on no shoes or stockings.

She spoke before I could. “This must be Carol. Johnny, you didn’t tell me she was so beautiful.”

I was speechless. She worked so hard last night so I would be prepared for something that I doubted would happen and then she surprised me in this way. There was no awkward moment of silence because Carol responded with, “You are so kind, Mrs. Smith. Thank you for the compliment but I know I am still just an awkward teenager.”

“Oh, darling Carol, if you grow more beautiful, my Johnny will be hard pressed to measure up,” mother gushed.

I wished there was some way to stop this. I picked up the picnic basket, took Carol’s hand, and started for the door. Then I heard Carol say, “John measures up.”

As we went out the door, I heard mother say one word. “Hopefully.”

Mother packed enough lunch for six people, so we had three picnics. One at Riverside Park before noon. One at the Gorge Overlook about two in the afternoon and then back at Riverside Park about five.

I do not know what mother expected to happen on our picnic, but what did happen was what I expected. We talked about all kinds of things, including our parents and siblings, school and teachers, likes and dislikes. The likes and dislikes included foods, people, sports, and parents. We both preferred hamburger but fried chicken was okay. We both preferred small groups of people our own age. We would just as soon not participate in any sport and neither of us had much interest in watching a sporting event. We both disliked our fathers more than our mothers but for different reasons.

My dislike of my father was simple. It was because he had left. Her dislike of her father was because of his jokes about things that made her uncomfortable. At this point we began talking about the things that made her uncomfortable such as her father joking about her mother’s big boobs and Carol’s small boobs. I said I thought that the size of her boobs was perfect for her whether they grew more or not, did not matter. She said, “I suppose my dad is looking back to when he and mom were in high school. And besides, mom has said to me that dad never outgrew his high school years and that if he could get away with it, he would be playing the field.”

This caused me to ask what she meant by “playing the field.” She replied, “Sleeping with lots of women.”

“Oh, like the boys at school who brag about the girls they have laid,” I said.

She looked me in the eyes with a big smile, touched the tip of my nose and asked, “And how many have you laid?”

I know I did not want to tell her or even lie to her. I looked out of the window of the car at the clouds that obscured the sun on the western horizon and noted the light rain that was falling. I said, “I promised I wouldn’t tell.” I turned and smiled back at her.

“Good answer but telling me the number won’t hurt,” she said as she leaned back against the passenger door as she curled her jean clad legs under her.

“Yes, but I could easily exaggerate the number to make me seem more experienced,” I said.

“Give me a number and if I believe you, I’ll tell you how many times I’ve been laid.”

Wow, a guy often wonders about the girl’s experience but never expects to be told. I told myself to be honest with her but don’t tell her one thing about who it was. “One.”

Her brown eyes twinkled as she puzzled over my answer. “One? Really? From our school?”

“Not from our school,” I said before thinking. Oops, I was not intending to say anything to help her determine who it was.

“Not from our school…must have been last summer when you were in California,”

She jumped to a conclusion and I was not going to correct her. “You must not believe me, or you would give me your number.”

“Zero, none. I haven’t even given a guy a hand job, but I was about to give you a hand job yesterday, but I chickened out,” she said while looking at me.

With a big smile on my face I said, “You said your mother was due home.”

“Well…that’s what I said…but really I chickened out. That’s what I have always done,” she said as she appeared to be studying the pink polish on her fingernails.

“Oh, who else have you chickened out on?” I asked with a smile.

She glared at me then as quickly she smiled and said, “I’m not telling you.”

“Of course, you don’t have to tell me,” I said. There was then an awkward long pause. We seemed to run out of conversation. To break the silence I asked, “Do you want me to teach you?”

With a devilish look on her face she asked, “Teach me what?”

With an attempt to look just as devilish, “I don’t know…maybe…” (I wanted to say fuck but…) “Give a hand job.”

“You would like that wouldn’t you,” she smilingly said.

“Well ya, but…it seems we should start with a little kissing. We kissed earlier at the Gorge. I kind of’ thought we had something there, but we been sitting here…” while I was delivering this little speech, she moved in on me and we began kissing. Kissing that involved a lot of tongue and roaming hands. Our hands began to be more daring, touching more personal places. Both hers and mine. This was mutual. In effect she, by copying my moves, was consenting to what I was doing. Then when I unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse, she went to my belt buckle.

I pulled back to glance around the empty parking lot and she asked, “Is it safe for us to do it here?”

I almost asked what we were going to do but seeing the emptiness I said, “Very safe.”

I looked as I unbuttoned all the buttons on her blouse and she looked as she finished with my belt and proceeded to unbutton and unzip my trousers. Leaving out all the details of how it was done I soon found myself looking at a beautiful pair of young breasts and she was looking at a very hard dick. “Beautiful,” I said.

“Everything I imagined and more,” she said. I started to gently massage her left breast when she said, “You got to teach me what to do.”

“It’s quite easy. You see that juice there on the head of my dick. Spread that around with your fingers to make him slick. If there is not enough, use some spit. Then grip him in one or both hands and pump up and down,” I instructed.

“I never thought of a dick as having a head or of it being a he,” she giggled.

“You can grip harder and pump faster if you want to see him cum any time soon,” I said as I rolled one of her nipples between thumb and forefinger.

She moaned and asked, “Like this?” as she firmly stroked.

She was gripping a little tight, but I said, “Just like that.”

I had been pretty well spent the night before, but I had had all day with Carol to build up a fresh supply of cum juice, so I reach down into my pocket, and pulled out a clean handkerchief. I held it out ready to catch most of my cum.

“What’s the cloth for?” she asked.

“Ease up, not quite so tight and a little spit. The kerchief is to catch the cum. It can get everywhere if I don’t,” I advised.

“You are such a good teacher. Do you always carry a kerchief?” she asked.

“I carry several ‘because I often jack-off two or three times a day,” I responded before bending down and taking her left tit into my mouth.

“Oh my, that feels so good,” she said.

Still sucking on a tit, I placed a hand on the inside of her left thigh and stroked up to her crotch. She suddenly stopped stroking and reached down and lowered her blue jeans and blue underpants. “We are not going to fuck but you will play with me,” she informed me.

I reached down between her legs and found her dripping wet pussy. I slipped two fingers in to get them thoroughly wet and moved up along her slit to find her clit. I swirled my wet fingers around her clit and then strummed across it. “Oh wow, oh wow. Someone has already taught you how to play with a pussy.”

With that I let the first strong surge of cum go where it may and caught the rest with the handkerchief. Carol was bent so near that the first surge hit her at the corner of her mouth. Her tongue flicked out and drew much of it into her mouth. “Mm, tastes much like blood,” she remarked.

Chapter 6 Mother Can Not Stop

I did not get her home before the sun went down but almost. Carol told me not to come in with her. She was sure her parents would be a little upset and she did not think it was fair they take it out on me. We kissed, just a couple of pecks and then I watched her walk quickly to the door.

It was after seven, nearly eight, when I arrived home. Mother had dinner waiting for me. She wanted me to tell her all about my day of picnics. I told her some of what we talked about and where we had gone. I told her we had our final sandwich in the car after the rain started.

“You drove all the way out to the Gorge Outlook? I’ll have to put gas in the car,” she said looking distressed.

‘I’ll gas it tomorrow if you give me the money,” I said.

“All right, I have the money,” she said.

As we were finishing the dishes, I said, “You know I did not use those rubbers. I would sure like to fuck you tonight.”

“John Smith! If you are going to talk to your mother like that, you can just get out!” she shouted. “You are not to talk to me like that! Get the hell out of my house right now!” She picked up a cast iron frying pan and threatened me with it. I quickly went to the door. I turned back to see if she might change her mind. “Get out, I said,” she shouted, still brandishing the skillet and advancing toward me. I went out the door, closing and holding it as a barrier between us. I heard her shouting, but she never attempted to open the door.

For at least ten minutes I stood there holding on to the doorknob and listening to her shouts. I went to the car and found I had left a door unlocked. I sat in the car wishing I had not left the keys sitting on the table. It was not a cold night, so I figured I could spend the night in the car. When I moved to the back seat, I discovered the picnic blanket, so I lay down and covered up. I began going over the events of the day. Suddenly I realized I was in great need of jacking off, so I proceeded to pull out another handkerchief and within five minutes I had relieved myself of another load of cum. I was then able to lay back down, cover myself, and fall asleep.

Several hours later, I was awakened with the car starting. My first thought was, someone is stealing the car. I had to do something to stop them. Sitting up as the car backed out of the drive way and onto the street, the street lights flashed across the person behind the wheel. I saw it was mother. As we started to accelerate down the street, I leaned up to her ear and asked, “Where are we going?”

She shouted, “Oh my god!” slammed on the breaks, bringing the car to a screeching stop. She turned and shouted, “You scared the living shit out of me!”

“No shit! You scared me too. I was sleeping here, and you start up the car without even checking,” I said accusingly.

“Son of a bitch, Johnny. I was so scared something happened to you. I went to your room and you weren’t there. Dressed and set out looking for you,” she said as she began to calm down.

“Where did you think you would find me?” I asked.

“I don’t know but…oh, Johnny. I’m so sorry. Shouldn’t’ve yelled at you.” She dissolved into tears. With her right foot still locking the breaks, her left foot let up on the clutch, killing the engine with a jolt. She moaned, “I’m sorry.”

I got out, opened her door, and told her to move over. After getting the car back in our driveway, I assisted her into the house and to her room. She seemed so helpless I undressed her. Completely naked I laid her down and covered her. “Johnny, come to bed with me,” she said.

“Why?” I asked.

“Don’t make me say it, Johnny,” she begged.

I was not saying what I thought she intended because the last time I did, she threatened me with a frying pan. Instead I turned out the light and turned to leave.

“Fuck me, dammit!” she shouted.

“I have to get the rubber,” I said. I had it in my pocket, but I thought it was time to let her wait. When I came back, she was sound asleep. “Mother, I have the rubber,” I said in a normal voice. There was no response so, I went to my own bed and slept until ten in the morning.

As I was finishing my breakfast, mother came into the kitchen and went through her normal routine of brewing coffee and sipping it before saying a word. “Morning Johnny.”

“Morning mom,” I responded.

Following several more sips of coffee, she asked, “Going to see Carol today?”

“No,” is all I said.

“Why not?” she asked.

I shrugged but did not know if she had seen so I said, “Don’t know.”

“Is it because of me?” she asked.

Puzzled, I asked, “Why would you think that?”

“Well…because…because…well…” She was having trouble saying what she wanted to say. After several deep breaths she said, “Because you should be…should be fucking Carol instead of me.”

I was glad that I had thought this out beforehand. I said, “Mom, Carol is not ready yet. Until she is, I will sleep with you.”

Her forehead wrinkled pulling her eyebrows up. She asked, “When do you think she will be ready?”

“I don’t know, June maybe,” I said.

“Hm… a month or two.” She looked at the empty cereal bowel in front of me and said, “Put that in the sink and make us some cinnamon toast. I’m craving cinnamon toast with real butter. Then we can go to bed and fuck till it is time for me to fix dinner.”

As I did as she had instructed, I hoped she finished her toast before she changed her mind. When we finished our toast, she reached across the table, grasped my hand, and asked, “You want to fuck me don’t you?”

“Sure, I do, mom,” I said.

“Then let’s do it,” she announced as she jumped up and pulled me to her room. In her room she said, “Strip!” Then she turned to her dresser mirror and threw off her house coat. She stood naked, looking at herself posing this way and that.

As I undressed, I watched her. I could not resist asking, “What are you doing?”

“I saw Carol. That girl doesn’t have an ounce of fat. Just checking if I measure up,” she said.

“You look good, mom,” I said.

“I don’t want to just look good. I want to look beautiful like Carol,” she said still looking and posing.

“Mom, you are more beautiful than Carol ’cause you have more curves,” I said.

“Well thank you Johnny,” she said as she turned to face me. She looked down at her boobs as she cupped them in her hands. “My boobs aren’t too big?”

“They are just right,” I insisted.

“They don’t sag too much?”

“I don’t notice any sag at all, mom.”

“Oh Johnny, you are so sweet. I could just eat you up. I think that is where we should start.” She stretched out on the bed and said, “I’ll suck in your dick while you eat my pussy.”

I thought, Shirley always was on top, but this should work too. I got in position and it worked great. I had more freedom. I could push my dick down mother’s throat and she seemed to take it all. I ate her pussy, then while I strummed my tongue across her clit, I shoved first one, then two, then three fingers into her. I stroked my fingers rapidly in and out. Mother seemed to like that. She moaned around my dick which really felt good. Soon I blew my load down her throat. Spent, I rolled off.

“Johnny, there is something else you have to learn. You were just satisfied but I was not. Sometimes to be a great lover you have to keep going until the girl gets her rocks off too. I will keep sucking you and you keep doing what you were doing. Eventually I will get all rigid and call out and get even more juicy. Then you can quit, and we can rest.”

We went back at it and soon I was feeling like I might be ready to shoot another load down her throat. She suddenly spit me out and shouted, “Oh Johnny that is so good, so fucking good.” She then squeezed my head between her thighs and thrashed around. I thought she was about to take my head off, when she relaxed and whispered, “So fucking good.”

After about five minutes of rest she said, “You’re probably ready to go again. Get on a rubber and we’ll spoon.”

As I put the rubber on, I asked, “What’s ‘spoon’?”

“Very often couples go to sleep on their sides, with him behind her, his dick is right at her butt and where her butt is, her pussy is always close,” she said as we got into position. “It is very restful, we can screw and doze, and screw some more,” she added as I cuddled up behind her and put my arm over her, finding a breast in my hand.

I squeezed her breast and said, “Comfortable.” She wiggled her butt and I felt my dick slide into her butt crack. She reached down and directed my dick to her pussy. With the slightest movement on my part he slipped in a little. She moved her hand up to hold my hand at her breast. I thrust my hips forward and my dick found the depth of her pussy. I relaxed, and my dick slid part way out. I was not in the mood for napping, so I continued to thrust and relax. The sensation was stimulating without being tiring.

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